Obliteration in instance

Is my life a time bomb?
Ticking like a bedroom clock,
Subliminal messages are what it holds,
Waiting to blow up in my face,
Fear the destruction that will unfold.

My loved ones close,
They should be far,
For when my life explodes,
Debris will be thrown,
My love their hand still holds.

Should I sprint or seek?
Defuse me someone,
Who holds the magical key?
Detonation is inevitable,
Stop this mechanism within me.

As life wastes away,
Rush to the hills,
Into the distance fade,
Conceal your visage,
Seek the shelter, seek the shade.

© Christopher Fowler
17th May 2005